Under darken wings that are spread,
Here I ride across the land,
To answer the call sent,
From the lark that calls,
From the distant prairie,
Guidance by the spirit bird,
Protector of the land,
Across streams that race,
All on their journey to meet,
Their mother, the Mississippi,
Whose waters have for eternity,
Carried the lifeblood of the land,
Since the retreat of the glaciers,
Still, a few remain out of reach,
In high distant places,
Whose soil is the tundra,
As sensitive as a newborn child,
Protected by the spirits,
Of the passing stewards,
Under the guardian eye of the Eagle,
Whose wings I find my soul,
Carried neath, their majestic span,
Across this beautiful land.
Carried high above the clouds,
By this majestic spirit bird,
With visions that are yet understood,
My eyes see the prairies below,
Herds of the mighty bison that flow,
At their lead is the mightiest one,
Snow white in color,
And upon its back, I do see,
The surviving people of this land,
The Crow, The Paiute, The Apache,
The Navajo, and the Taos Pueblo,
And all the other tribes,
Extinguished by the advent,
Of European civilization on this land,
Which came with the long rifle,
The mustang, and the painted horse,
And the long wagon trains,
The Conestoga wagons, at the rear,
Walked the belled Guernsey,
That rambled across unforged streams,
Whose wheels carried seeds,
Unknown to the native land,
And today, the offspring,
Have overtaken, the land,
And filling the roadside with,
White and yellow flowers,
Which few have come to understand.
Through the eyes of Black Elk,
And the other elders,
At council they do gather,
I see the White Buffalo,
And I hear him in his Lakota tongue,
Speak as I fly across this land,
Under the great wings of,
The mighty Eagles' span,
And I hear the prairie chicken,
In the native grass below,
We circle in grace before we land,
My soul is at peace,
My spirit is released,
To join in this ride,
Upon the back of the White Buffalo,
Across the ancient prairie of this land,
And to ride where,
The White Bison goes.